


Pocketful of Genius

by vegapunkd



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Angst, Build New World, Drama, M/M, Post-Kamen Rider Build, chaptered fic, character gets drugged, dumb jokes, he has a rough time but he's okay, honey i shrunk sento
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegapunkd/pseuds/vegapunkd
Summary: Sento wakes up tiny. Proportionally so, even.**complete now, yay**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working on this dumb thing for a while and I’m...nearly done? I hope. It seemed like it would go better in chapters, so I’m trying this format on for size. Congratulations, you get multiple crappy endings in one fic >>

Sento stared up in confusion at the sea of white that stretched out before him. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was still dreaming. Had he gotten drunk last night? ....No, he’d worked late, come home exhausted, and fought with Banjou about something stupid—he still wasn’t sure exactly what Banjou had been upset about—and then passed out after setting his alarm, which...wasn’t going off. Had Banjou gotten annoyed and shut it off again?

  
  


He sat up, eerily reminded of the room he’d shared with Katsuragi in his mind. But this place was empty, uncomfortably warm, and...soft? He moved to stand up, then realized abruptly that he wasn’t wearing anything.

  
  


“The hell…?” He stared down at himself, completely bare. Even his watch was missing.

  
  


_ Aliens_, a voice in the back of his head whispered. Ever since meeting Banjou, and especially since sharing a body with him, Sento had found himself automatically considering the idiot angle. The voice even sounded like Banjou, most days. 

  
  


“We’ve had our share of aliens,” Sento muttered. “None of them seemed interested in pausing their world destruction plans for the sake of abduction.” Though experimentation had been on the table, he supposed.

  
  


Well. One thing at a time. Sento got slowly to his feet, noting the way the ground almost bounced beneath him. The...floor? was some kind of coarsely woven cloth, and Sento nearly tripped a few times as he walked over its uneven bumps.

  
  


The silence was unnerving, and he looked around himself again.

  
  


“Banjou?”

  
  


It was disturbingly easy to think without Banjou’s incessant noises. Sento didn’t like it.

  
  


Like a computer you’d always had running in the background had been turned off, he mused, then reconsidered. Maybe a fridge was a better match. Heh. Best match. No, that was—

  
  


_ Enough_, he told that voice irritably. 

  
  


“Banjou?” he tried again, a little worried now. Between them, they were a genius physicist and a half(ish) alien hybrid. Plenty of reasons for someone to come after them, if they knew. But how could they?

  
  


A shrill noise pierced the air, and Sento cried out, dropping to his knees and desperately trying to block his ears, the sound drilling into his head. Eyes watering, he looked left and right, trying to find the source. Nothing appeared, and he curled into himself further, only to swear as the floor rolled underneath him. Was it an earthquake? An earthquake alarm?

  
  


A low rumbling started up to accompany the noise, and Sento squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe this was all a really fucked up nightmare.

  
  


Suddenly the shrill sound stopped, and Sento slumped in relief, then swore again as the floor continued to move. The rumbling continued, and without the shrill sound, it almost started to sound like—

  
  


“—nto? The hell did you go, fucking turn off your alarm if you’re up, asshole!”

  
  


“...Banjou?” Sento looked around himself again. Banjou was nowhere in sight, but it looked like there was a brighter area further down in the room now, maybe even lit by sunlight.

  
  


_ Whump!_ A loud impact sounded, and the resulting shock wave knocked Sento to his hands and knees. 

  
  


“What the hell!” he snapped out, irritated. The ground steadied quicker this time, and he sighed, glancing down to make sure everything was still intact.

  
  


“Sento?” Banjou’s voice again, and Sento scowled as he stood up.

  
  


“What?! Where the hell are you?”

  
  


“What? Me? I’m in bed still. Are you using a radio or something?”

  
  


“In bed _where_? What does a radio have to do with anything?” Sento folded his arms and began to make his way to the light he’d seen before.

  
  


“Just in bed...Where’s your voice coming from?” Something above him changed, and while the ‘ceiling’ stayed in place, something on top of it seemed to have been moved, making things a lot brighter. Air hit him in an almost refreshing breeze, and he frowned, staring between the ceiling, and a strange shape coming into focus the closer he walked towards the light. “Dude, why did you leave your clothes in the futon? I told you I’m not doing your laundry for you.”

  
  


As he got closer to the shape, which looked something like a giant blanket, Sento’s brain began to tick through everything, and an uncomfortable realization started to sink in.

  
  


“Banjou. Banjou don’t pick up my clothes.”

  
  


“Wasn’t planning on it. Why not?”

  
  


“Because.” Sento stared down at the ‘blanket’, covered in various obscure symbols. He couldn’t read all of them, but he was pretty certain the one on the far left was telling him to wash in cold water. “Because I’m still in them.”

  
  


“...what?”

  
  


The ceiling shifted, and Sento snapped again, “I just told you not to—“

  
  


“Sorry! But, what? You’re still in them? Like—“

  
  


Sento eyed the edge of the “room”, which looked much more like the collar of his shirt than he wanted it to. Even worse when something outside shifted, and an unmistakably Banjou-looking eye came into view.

  
  


“Sento.” Banjou’s voice sounded a bit strangled. “Sento, you’re naked.”

  
  


“I am not. Like I said—“

  
  


“Sento, you’re _tiny_.”

  
  


Sento really couldn’t dispute that, but he tried. “It’s all relative, really, I think—“

  
  


“Sento, _all_ of you is _tiny_!” There was half a snigger in Banjou’s voice, and Sento scowled.

  
  


“I am not having this conversation with you.”

  
  


“You’re proportionate, even.”

  
  


“Why do you know that word? You need to forget it; it doesn’t suit you. Also, shut up.”

  
  


Banjou disappeared, but Sento could still hear him laughing. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before!” he yelled crossly, refusing to cover himself up.

  
  


Banjou’s eye reappeared. “Are you coming out of there, or are you going to sulk some more?” He tucked a tissue the size of a blanket into Sento’s shirt, and Sento huffed as he wrapped it around himself.

  
  


“I woke up approximately 1/25th my usual size, I’m allowed to sulk.” He carefully made his way out of the shirt, wincing at the rough texture of the tissue paper. “We really need to stop being so cheap with our tissues.”

  
  


“It’s very you that you know that. And we’re still using that huge pack we got from Costco when your coworkers took us.”

  
  


“Yeah, well…” Sento trailed off. He looked around, at his shirt, the collar now bigger than his whole body, at the pillow, a solid wall that looked much less comfy at this size. At Banjou, a shirtless giant, even sitting down on the futon. “Oh…” He clenched the edge of the tissue paper in his fist and let out a shaky breath.

  
  


“You okay?”

  
  


“I’m _tiny_ ,” Sento wobbled when the futon shifted with Banjou, who was lying down to be at eye level with Sento.

  
  


“You are,” Banjou acknowledged, bringing his hand up next to Sento. “Smaller than my hand, wow.”

  
  


Sento looked at Banjou’s hand, grooves and scars now bigger than his head. He sat down, hard. “What do I do about this?”

  
  


“What do _we_ do about this?” Banjou corrected, then shrugged. “No idea.”

  
  


“That is precisely why I said _I_ , asshole.”

  
  


Banjou scowled down at him. “Fine, maybe I’ll just head out for the day. It’s my day off; I was planning to go to the gym, maybe the movies—“

  
  


“Liar,” Sento muttered. He eyed the room again, then sighed. Banjou laid his hand flat with an expectant look, and Sento grumbled but stood up and moved over to it.

  
  


“You did shower last night, right?” Banjou asked suddenly, as Sento clambered up onto his palm.

  
  


“Worried about my tiny germs?” Sento asked sarcastically.

  
  


Banjou paused. “Would they have gotten tiny with you or just fallen off like your clothes?

  
  


“Not the time!” Sento snapped, then swore as Banjou started to stand up. “Wait, let me—woah!”

  
  


“Ah, sorry. Er—“

  
  


“Put your thumb up, yeah, and I’ll just—okay.”

  
  


“This is awkward,” Banjou muttered, holding his hand palm up while Sento clung to his thumb.

  
  


“I’m sorry, am I making your day difficult? Should we go back to that ‘I’?”

  
  


“If you want,” Banjou snapped back. “I just meant we need to figure something else out if we go outside.” They made it to the table, and Banjou laid his hand flat again so Sento could get off.

  
  


“Why do we need to go outside?” Sento sat again, leaning back against a container of hot sauce. He put his head in his hands. “I...do we need to go outside?”

  
  


“I don’t know,” Banjou replied honestly, and Sento sighed.

  
  


“Why are you acting so calm about all this?” he grumbled, giving Banjou a peevish look.

  
  


Banjou rested his head on his hand as he pulled out his phone. “Cause you’re about two centimeters away from freaking out,” was his reply. Sento considered that for a moment, acknowledging that Banjou getting upset would probably be the least helpful thing for his mental state right now.

  
  


“Okay, but—” The shutter noise on Banjou’s phone went off, and Sento jumped, hands going to his ears again. “What the hell are you taking pictures for?”

  
  


“Proof,” was Banjou’s reply, and Sento stared.

  
  


“If that photo goes on the internet, I swear—who are you _calling_?”

  
  


Banjou ignored him in favor of his phone call. “Ah hello, Misora? Misora, Sento’s _tiny_. I sent you a pic.”

  
  


Sento let his head thunk back into the hot sauce bottle with a sigh. “I would really like to wake up now please.”

  
  


“Cute? No, not really. He’s mostly just grumpy.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They had debated back and forth for weeks—do we try and tell the others about who we are, about who they _were_? Sento had been reluctantly against it, uncertain about bringing painful memories to their friends when they all seemed to be living happy, normal lives. Banjou knew him too well by this point, could sense the reluctance that came from loneliness they both shared. And he was better at persuading Sento than he used to be, pushing when Sento was wavering, backing off when he was annoyed.

  
  


“I would hate it, if it were me,” he’d said, “being in the dark like that, about everything that’d happened...Especially if it left you dealing with it alone. I would hate it.”

  
  


“You wouldn’t remember it to hate it,” Sento had remarked, arms crossed and staring at the floor. “It’s one thing to say you’d want your memories back when you have them, but how could they know what they were agreeing to? It’s not something we could undo. And if I were alone, I’d deal, but I’m not so what does it matter?”

  
  


Neither of them had backed down, but inaction had lent itself to Sento’s case regardless. Or, he’d thought it had, until Misora had chased them down with a spoon.

  
  


(“ _I’m so tired of your self-sacrificing attitude!” she snapped at him in between whacks with her spoon. Her apron had come half undone, and it left her looking a bit of a mess. Banjou didn’t even bother trying to dodge the spoon, just pulled her straight into a hug. To Sento’s bewilderment, she gave up attacking almost immediately, hugging him back with such fierceness that Sento knew she had to have missed them as much as they had her, memories or no._

  
  


_ He hovered awkwardly next to them for a moment or two, until two hands reached out and dragged him closer. And that was nicer than he’d expected, their arms around him starting to unwind something that had been strung tight and hard in his chest. Maybe Banjou had had a point, he thought to himself as Banjou and Misora began bickering about who had started crying first._) 

  
  


It turned out Banjou had been visiting Nascita on the sly (of course he had) and while he hadn’t tried to _talk_ to Misora about anything that had happened before, seeing him on an apparently fairly regular basis had sparked something anyway.

  
  


Their relationship with her wasn’t quite the same as it had been—this Misora had seven more years of memories than her other world self, was not quite as innocent, but less jaded. She laughed outright when someone asked if Sento was her boyfriend, but vehemently defended the innocence of an actor Sento was sure had a girlfriend. They were cautious with her too, not really talking much about the old world unless she brought it up.

  
  


Still, she’d immediately offered them a place in the basement, and while it would have helped with their finances, Sento had turned it down, acutely aware of how Banjou felt about Isurugi. (Well, Evolt. Isurugi was one Sento hoped never regained his memories of the other world). Misora had understood, and wrangled a promise to visit weekly out of him. They often dropped by more than that though, and Sento was glad to have someone he could complain to when Banjou set the blankets on fire _again._ (Not really suitable for water cooler talk).

  
  


Now, he was curled unhappily inside his tissue blanket while she and Banjou peered down at him, then gave each other amused looks.

  
  


“Don’t even start,” he warned them. “I’m cold, I’m hungry, I have to pee, and this dumb thing says I’m _fine_.” He scowled at the scanner Banjou had gotten out of the lab and used on him (all per Sento’s instructions, of course). It had beeped happily, informing Sento that he was in perfect health. (Sento had stubbed his toe kicking it, and it had adjusted its evaluation to state “Mild injury”. Sento hated his own brilliance sometimes.)

  
  


Misora smacked Banjou’s shoulder. “You didn’t give him anything to eat?”

  
  


“I haven’t eaten either,” Banjou grumbled. He’d put on a shirt at some point, after they’d emailed Sento’s work about being sick. “And how are you gonna use the toilet? Am I supposed to like, dangle you over it or something?”

  
  


“I appreciate the lengths you’re willing to go,” Sento told him dryly. “But that is not happening.”

  
  


Eventually he made use of a potted plant they had on their balcony, vowing to make a proper-sized toilet if this went on much longer, before pulling on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, courtesy of Misora.

  
  


Misora had brought some cutlery and furniture from an old doll house she still had, and some Sento-sized clothes. (No underwear or socks, unfortunately, though she had found a pair of tiny flip-flops that didn’t fit too horribly). Sento assumed the clothes were also from the dolls, but Misora shook her head.

  
  


“Those are all old and kinda gross now. These here are mock-ups for one of my fashion design classes. I’ll let you borrow them if you promise to model the real thing for me later.”

  
  


Sento shrugged and nodded, hands wrapped around a cup that was about the size of his head. Seeing this Misora living out a dream that the other Misora hadn’t even dared to imagine made him oddly emotional.

  
  


He used his arm-length fork and knife to hack at the bit of Banjou’s sandwich that had been left to the side for him. Banjou and Misora had been hopelessly unable to cut anything small enough for him, and he took a bit of pleasure in being the only one who could do this, at least.

  
  


“What now?” Banjou asked, and Sento made a face.

  
  


“My other scanner might give us more information, but it’s not built for someone my size. If I can find a way to adjust it then…”

  
  


Banjou was not known for his patience. “Then what?”

  
  


“I don’t know. See what it says? If I had even the slightest idea how this happened, I might have an idea how to fix it but…” Sento shrugged. If he were being honest, if this had happened to anyone else, he’d be a lot more interested in the science of it. As it was, he just wanted to be normal-sized again. A lesson in empathy, he supposed.

  
  


Misora patted him on the back with her finger. “At least it’s something you already know is possible, right? You just have to figure out how to reverse it. Sounds pretty simple, _genius_.”

  
  


Sento stuck his tongue out at her, but found himself smiling after.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was worried that seeing Cross-Z might kill my motivation, but I think I'm too deep into this fic now lol.

Misora had to leave to go get Nascita running for the day, but she made them promise to call if they needed her. Now Sento was working with a voice-to-text app on his phone to input code into his scanner, which worked about 60% of the time. When it didn’t, he had to manually input it, a task that took a frustrating amount of time, but was still faster than dictating it to Banjou, who typed at a mile a minute when he was texting, but only hesitantly poked at the screen when Sento tried to get him to fix a dictation error.

  
  


“I don’t know how to spell any of the shit you’re saying,” Banjou complained. He was clearly aware of Sento’s mounting frustration, and was annoyed that it was partially directed at him.

  
  


“Would it kill you to learn some code?” Sento grumbled, “No, not there, the next line...what? No, how does that look like the next line to you?”

  
  


Banjou was mostly keeping occupied with magazines and comics sitting on a chair next to the desk Sento was using. The close proximity wasn’t helping the work any, but Sento had apparently lost his personal space privileges when he’d accidentally gotten himself knocked off his desk by one of his machines. Banjou had dived to catch him from the other side of the room, and now refused to leave his side, a pinched look on his face every time Sento suggested it. Sento recognized a lost cause when he saw one, and was tolerating his partner’s hovering, but for all the frustration…

  
  


“ _ Error. No lifeforms detected in the scanning area _ .”

  
  


“I’m right here!” Sento snapped at the machine, then groaned, crouching down and putting his head in his hands.

  
  


“I see you,” Banjou told him, trying to be helpful or trying to be a dick, Sento wasn’t sure. “Maybe you should take a break. It’s almost dinnertime.”

  
  


“Go get food if you’re hungry,” Sento grumbled. He didn’t need to look up to know that Banjou was making that face again.

  
  


“We don’t have any food,” Banjou informed him, and Sento did look up this time.

  
  


“What? Wasn’t it your turn to buy groceries?”

  
  


“Yeah. I was gonna go today. Then someone decided to be tiny and proportionate.”

  
  


“Do you seriously not have anything else to say? And I didn’t  _ decide _ anything, I woke up like this, asshole.” Sento flopped backwards, splaying out on his back. “Are you sure  _ you _ didn’t do something? You were so crabby last night.”

  
  


Banjou spluttered. “Crabby? You’re the one who said you’d be back for dinner, and then didn’t show up until past 11!”

  
  


“I’m an adult,  _ mother _ . And work is work. Overtime happens a lot in the adult world, you should try growing up sometime.”

  
  


“Screw you, like you were doing anything other than playing with those fancy machines at your office!”

  
  


“It’s important work! Just cause you don’t understand it—!”

  
  


“I don’t need to understand it! I just need you to send a damn text so I can eat dinner at a decent hour!”

  
  


“Nobody asked you to wait for me!” Technically true, but they usually did eat together, and the look on Banjou’s face meant that Sento had definitely lost a few points for that one. At the moment, he wasn’t in a particular mood to care.

  
  


Banjou stood up, lips pressed together in sharp annoyance. He turned and walked away and Sento rolled his eyes, but watched as Banjou continued walking the length of the room, then turned around and walked all the way back to the other wall. The room wasn’t huge, so it didn’t take him long. He went back-and-forth a few times before Sento finally gave in.

  
  


“What are you doing?”

  
  


“Pacing!” was Banjou’s snapped response.

  
  


“Is it supposed to accomplish something?”

  
  


“You’re annoying me! But you’re tiny! So I can’t leave you alone. So I’m pacing!” The last was said with both fists pumped up in the air, and Sento was pretty certain Banjou was halfway to forgetting he was annoyed.

  
  


“You don’t need to stay with me,” he tried. Banjou just waved him off, and kept pacing, half dancing now. Sento coughed to hide a laugh, then sighed. He  _ was _ getting hungry. And he knew staying cooped up like this was rough on Banjou, who had made it a point to go out everyday since they’d come here. “All right, fine, let’s go get some food. Maybe we can pick up a few parts that might help with this dumb scanner too.”

  
  


Banjou turned to look at him. “Are we gonna be okay taking you outside?”

  
  


“We’ll have to figure something out. And can you drop me off in the flowerpot again?”

  
  


~~~

  
  
  


The trip to the hardware store was first on the list, with Sento eventually settled into the inner chest pocket of Banjou’s jacket. He’d made himself a notepad of sorts from scrap paper, and Banjou had got some pencil lead short enough for him to use, so now he was curled up in the corner of the pocket with a key chain light, surprisingly comfortable. It was the first time he’d felt completely warm since he’d woken up, and the sound of Banjou’s heartbeat was rather soothing, in a “not going to think too hard about this” kinda way.

  
  


Inside the store was a bit more stressful, trying to peep out of the pocket and direct Banjou what to get. Banjou ended up asking the staff for help, but kept forgetting Sento was there, or pausing awkwardly to wait for Sento’s response. It didn’t help that the staff was fairly clueless as far as Sento’s particular needs went.

  
  


“You didn’t say what I told you to,” Sento grumbled as they left. They’d only gotten one of the parts he’d been looking for, and it had put him in a bit of a sour mood.

  
  


“I am not going to yell at some part-time worker for not being a genius physicist.”

  
  


“I didn’t say  _ yell _ at him. I just think he should know what parts they keep in stock—what the hell is that?!”

  
  


Banjou’s jacket shook violently, making Sento’s teeth chatter in his head.

  
  


“Huh? Oh.” Sento couldn’t see what was happening, but he could hear Banjou’s voice. “Hello?”

  
  


“Your phone? Oh…” Sento sighed, letting his head roll back against Banjou. Seeing everything bigger than him was slowly getting easier, but the  _ sounds. _ This world was not built for the ears of someone Sento’s size.

  
  


“Yeah, still tiny and grumpy,” Banjou said above him, and Sento kicked him.

  
  


~~~

  
  


Misora wanted them to come by and pick up some more clothes she had gotten together for Sento (looking increasingly necessary at this point) so they put the grocery shopping on hold.

  
  


They passed a family walking out the door of Nascita on their way in, but they had apparently been the last ones in the place. Not unexpected, given the late-ish hour.

  
  


“Dad asked me to close up today so he could watch some space documentary on TV with his friends tonight,” Misora told them, and Sento climbed out of Banjou’s pocket with some relief.

  
  


“Space documentary?” Banjou asked, sounding bewildered. When Sento tapped on his neck, he startled, then offered his hand, setting Sento down on the counter.

  
  


Misora shrugged and smiled. “He was an astronaut before he was a ‘master coffee brewer’ as he says.” She hesitated, then added, “I was in an accident, in this world. It wasn’t...wasn’t so bad, looking back, but. My dad was scared, to lose me after losing my mom. He ended up retiring and opening Nascita after that.”

  
  


Banjou frowned, moving behind the counter and looking in the cabinets, mostly out of habit, Sento thought.

  
  


“So does that mean that it was your dad that wanted to open this place and Evolt just went with it?”

  
  


“It’s not like he knew all that much about coffee,” Sento muttered, and Misora snickered.

  
  


“That’s true.”

  
  


Sento heard the sound of the bell chiming, but didn’t have a chance to look before he was being grabbed, then dropped somewhere dark, the world spinning crazily for a minute.

  
  


“Ow, what the—” Banjou’s voice, and Sento struggled to stand, disoriented and half-panicked.

  
  


“Ban—” he started, before he was pushed firmly against a cloth wall.

  
  


“Shhh!” Sento quieted at Misora’s voice, slowly getting his bearings. He could just make out a pen, and an order pad in the dim light. He was in her apron pocket then.

  
  


“You’re still open, right? The door wasn’t locked or anything so…” And that was Banjou. Not Sento’s Banjou, which explained Misora’s rush to hide them. Sento breathed out slowly, letting himself relax.

  
  


“Ryuuga…” a softer voice, and Sento hoped Banjou was staying hidden. “The sign says they close in 10 minutes.”

  
  


“But—”

  
  


“Welcome,” Misora sounded a bit tense.

  
  


“Sorry,” Kasumi murmured to Misora, “if it’s a bother, we can leave. He just really wanted pancakes…”

  
  


Sento rolled his eyes as Misora assured her it was fine, and the other Banjou cheered happily. It would be easier if she just told them to leave...but he couldn’t help but be a little curious.

  
  


Misora brought them water, then nodded as the couple ordered berry pancakes, “Just one plate is fine,” Kasumi told her, and Sento peeped out of the pocket a bit. Was she not having anything, or were they sharing, he wondered, then wondered why he cared.

  
  


The two of them looked fine, he supposed, though Banjou had a black eye to go with his hair. Probably from the match fight he’d had a few days ago, though shouldn’t it have healed by now? No, wait, this Banjou was all human, and wouldn’t heal as fast as Sento’s Banjou would.

  
  


Kasumi leaned over to poke Banjou’s cheek, then ran a gentle finger around the bruise. The look on her face gave Sento déjà vu, remembering it on the face of a girl who had faded away in a different world.

  
  


He sank back down, feeling as much an intruder as he had then.

  
  


Misora left them be to move to the kitchen area. Sento looked at the hand that suddenly appeared next to him, then carefully climbed onto it, holding onto Misora as she brought him out.

  
  


She was kneeling next to Banjou, Sento’s Banjou, who was sitting in front of the oven with his legs drawn up, holding his arm a bit sullenly.

  
  


“I didn’t hit you that hard, quit sulking. Sento where do you wanna go?” Misora’s voice wasn’t that quiet, but honestly the other Banjou was talking pretty loudly about some movie or other they had just seen, and Sento doubted she’d been overheard.

  
  


She set him down on the wine shelf as he’d asked, then started making the pancakes, moving with a practiced air that had Sento watching her with interest, trying to see the eternally exhausted girl he used to know. He was kind of glad it was hard to equate the two (not impossible though, and he fought back a fond grin as she and Banjou squabbled in hissed complaints over the kitchen space).

  
  


Finally she took the pancakes out, to a whooped “All right!” that had Sento’s Banjou burying his face in his hands, ears turning pink in embarrassment. His new world self certainly had him beat in enthusiasm, and Sento couldn’t help but be impressed. He laughed at the look on Banjou’s face a few minutes later as they heard the other Banjou explaining to Misora exactly why her pancakes were so delicious.

  
  


“It’s like...when you’ve got a cake, right? But instead of the frosting, you got this, what is this?”

  
  


“Whipped cream,” Kasumi’s voice, amused.

  
  


“Right, whipped cream. Instead of the frosting, and then all these funny looking strawberries—”

  
  


“Ah, some of those are raspberries, and cranberries,” Misora was definitely holding back a laugh.

  
  


“Yeah, and it all just goes together so great and—”

  
  


Sento watched with more than a little amusement as Banjou’s ears went pinker, the color slowly spreading down to his neck.

  
  


The other Banjou laughed suddenly, at something Kasumi had said, and Sento startled at the sound, bright and loud in the small cafe. He’d never heard Banjou laugh like that, he realized, and the amusement turned sour in his gut. He supposed being partners with one of the guys who had screwed up your life was bound to change someone for the worse.

  
  


He curled up a bit miserably on his perch, regret a bitter taste in his mouth.

  
  


“Sento,” Banjou’s voice was earnest, and he was leaning in close. Sento looked up at him, certain that Banjou had picked up on his mood. He didn’t think there was much the other man could say to make Sento feel better, but he knew he owed it to him to listen.

  
  


“Sento,” Banjou repeated. “I swear, Sento. I know what raspberries are.”

  
  


Sento blinked, then furrowed his brow. “What?” he finally asked.

  
  


“They’re Sawa’s favorite. Or, they were, at least. She always used to complain about how hard they were to get.” Banjou tilted his head. “She did always manage to get them though, even when Kazumin couldn’t get the shit he wanted.”

  
  


“That’s because Kazumi has ridiculously expensive tastes for a farmer,” Sento muttered, briefly distracted. “But, what, who cares if you know—“

  
  


“I’m gonna post on Instagram that I’m gonna come back here tomorrow, except I won’t, but I’ll tell people, y’know? Well, I don’t wanna lie, so I’ll say, like, ‘maybe I’ll go again tomorrow’. And some of my fans, well, there are some girls, er, women? Ladies? Um, I think they’ll try and come. Maybe that will help make this place super popular!” The other Banjou’s voice came from near the register, and both Sento and Banjou stiffened, Banjou flattening himself back against the far wall.

  
  


“I appreciate it,” Misora’s voice still had the same dryly amused tone she’d had the whole time as she thanked the couple for their patronage. The door sounded, then Kasumi’s voice followed, quieter.

  
  


“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He’s got a few very...passionate fans but they won’t cause any trouble.”

  
  


“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

  
  


A soft laugh from Kasumi, and Sento glanced at Banjou, who had moved to rest his head on his arm, a wistful look on his face.

  
  


The door again, then Misora leaned around the corner. She eyed them for a moment, then gave them a thumbs-up and moved away.

  
  


Sento remained quiet, thoughts a bit scattered and unpleasant.

  
  


“Our birthdays are different,” Banjou said finally, still looking out towards the door. Sento took a moment to process that, then frowned. He hadn’t thought to check, but he supposed it made sense. “I’m seven months older than he is, about. It’s enough that he ended up in the school year after mine, same year as her. Apparently they met in home room...It’s weird like, we look pretty alike, and some things are the same, but we’re really different too?”

  
  


Banjou trailed off, and Sento shifted.

  
  


“Jealous?” he asked, his voice a bit more serious than he’d meant it to be. Banjou didn’t seem bothered though.

  
  


“Dunno. Like, I  _ miss  _ her, y’know? But...they’re happy.  _ She’s  _ happy. And I...I like where I am...who I am, even.” Banjou still wasn’t looking at him, but he was as frank as ever with his thoughts. Sento just nodded, contemplative.

  
  


He jumped when Banjou abruptly turned to face him again.

  
  


“Sento. I’m smarter than him, right? That’s...that’s not what I sound like, right?”

  
  


Sento shrugged. “Everybody sounds like that to me,” he said airily, and Banjou groaned.

  
  
~~~  


After Misora was finally able to close the cafe, the three of them split some leftover stew from earlier in the day. Misora and Banjou perched on stools while Sento sat on the counter, drinking his out of another head-sized cup. Banjou had managed to cut up some of the meat with toothpicks, and Sento made sure to complain about the rough job. Bickering somehow both distracted him from and reminded him about the old world, and along with everything else he was in a bit of a melancholy mood, which—

  
  


“ACHOO!...Oh, shit, um. Sorry dude.”

  
  


Sento remained motionless for a long moment, trying very hard not to think about the way he could feel something sliding down his arm.

  
  


“Did you just...sneeze...on me?”

  
  


Banjou looked at him, while blowing his nose into a tissue that Misora handed to him, rolling her eyes.

  
  


“No,” he said finally, eyes wide. “I did not.” He blew his nose again, and Sento threw a toothpick at him.

  
  


“You are so gross! It’s common decency to cover your mouth when you sneeze, it should be obvious that it’s doubly so when your resident shrunken genius physicist is in the line of fire!” He took a breath to keep going, but gave up when he realized that Banjou was still stuck on ‘common decency’, sounding the words out to himself quietly. “Misora!”

  
  


“Sink’s free,” she said with a shrug. “Just don’t go around telling anyone you took a bath in there.”

 

“Why do I even bother with expectations,” Sento grumbled, peering reluctantly at his arm, and shuddering.

  
  


~~~

  
  


“You’re quiet,” Banjou said as he settled into his futon after they had showered. Sento had eventually opted to wait until they got home to bathe, making sure to use Banjou’s shirt to wipe everything off.

  
  


He’d used a plastic bottle cap as a wash basin, dumping water over his head then scrubbing with the handful of shampoo and soap he’d taken from what Banjou had offered him. Then he’d soaked in a cup of hot water on the edge of the bathtub that Banjou was using. It had improved his mood some, but brushing his teeth with his finger had dampened it, and the sheer annoyance of using the damn potted plant again had done even more so.

  
  


Now he was in a shoe box filled with his own shirts at the head of Banjou’s futon with a small beanbag for a pillow and feeling pretty miserable.

  
  


“I was hoping to have this fixed by now,” he muttered, frustration making him more honest than he otherwise might have been. He rubbed sourly at the marks the sandals had left between his toes.

  
  


“Yeah, it sucks, huh? But you’ll figure it out.” Banjou sounded sleepy already, and Sento scowled. “Also, you have to come with me to my shift tomorrow.”

  
  


“What, why? Just leave me here, or call in.”

  
  


“I’m not leaving you alone. And what am I supposed to do, tell her my roommate’s currently too small for his underwear?”

  
  


“You just lie and say that you’re sick!”

  
  


The pathetic face Banjou made had Sento rolling his eyes.

  
  


“She’ll know if I’m lying,” Banjou insisted.

  
  


“That’s cause you’re a shit liar,” Sento muttered.

  
  


“Heroes of justice aren’t supposed to lie anyway.”

  
  


“I swear…”

  
  


“It’s just a morning shift, you could even sleep the whole time!”

  
  


Sento sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. From Banjou’s stories, he knew the owner of the bakery he worked at was a smart woman, and strict. And while Sento had leave to use, Banjou was part-time, which was money they needed out the window if he called in.

  
  


Banjou had already given up his day off to help Sento; he supposed a few hours away from the computer wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  
  


“Fine,” he agreed, flopping back on his makeshift bed so he didn’t have to see Banjou’s victory fist pump.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sick this weekend, so if anything sounds ridiculous, it is probably still my fault whoops.

Sento slept poorly, leaving him still grumpy the next morning. Banjou wasn’t much better, and they spent most of breakfast communicating in grunts.

 

He honestly did sleep for most of Banjou’s commute—a 30 minute walk, because Banjou only took the bus when it rained—but woke up when he heard Banjou greet everyone as he walked into the building.

 

“Morning,” his tone wasn’t quite cheerful, but he sounded more awake than he had earlier. A few voices responded in turn, and Sento peeped out to see an older woman at the register, and a young man who looked to be university age sweeping the floor.

 

As Banjou made his way to the back, Sento thought back to previous conversations, trying to place names with faces. The older woman was likely Sugamoto, who apparently everyone just called Suga. She was the owner, and very much the boss. Banjou had spent the first month he’d worked here grousing about how strict she was, but when Sento, exasperated, had told him to quit if he was so miserable, Banjou had scowled and told him to back off.

 

After that first rough month, Banjou had apparently settled in well and recently his complaints were focused on their newest crewmate—probably the one sweeping the floor, who was...what was his name?

 

“Ono!” Suga barked from the front, “That floor better look cleaner than it did yesterday!”

 

Ono. Right.

 

“Tables first, then the floor!” she continued, and Sento snickered to see Banjou mouthing the words along with her.

 

“Shut up,” Banjou grumbled.

 

“Glad you’re not the newbie anymore?” Sento asked with a smirk.

 

“I was never that bad,” Banjou insisted.

 

“I don’t know about that,” another voice interjected, and both of them jumped. “I’ve never had to tell him to zip up his pants.”

 

Sento finally managed to see the speaker when Banjou turned around, a woman perhaps a little older than Banjou, with a serious face and her hair back in a high ponytail.

 

“Just once or twice—” Banjou tried, only to get cut off.

 

“A week,” she interjected, and Sento groaned.

 

“What the hell, Aya,” Banjou complained, “Don’t say that shit in front of Se—”

 

Sento jabbed him, and Banjou’s mouth snapped shut.

 

“Suga knows, trust me. At least you managed to remember today.” Well, he had after Sento had reminded him, anyway. “Quit giving yourself a pep talk in here and change already. We’ve had reservations come in for a big group.”

 

“Shit,” Banjou muttered, “Okay.” Aya left and Banjou carefully hung up his jacket in his locker. Sento poked his head out to look at him. “Maybe you should just stay in here,” Banjou said with a frown. 

 

“Sounds boring.”

 

“I thought you had your stuff to work on?”

 

“Meh. I need my computer.” He didn’t, technically, but he hated getting graphite all over his hands when he was writing.

 

Banjou hesitated, but gave in, changing his shirt and transferring Sento to his shirt pocket, then putting an apron on over both.

 

“You’ve got holes in your shirt,” Sento pointed out, mostly just happy to find one that would let him look out without much effort.

 

“It’s the bakery shirt. Hand-me-down from the last guy.”

 

“The creepy one?” The guy Banjou had replaced had stuck around for a few days to train Banjou, and Banjou hadn’t been a fan. As far as Banjou had been able to tell, Suga and Aya hadn’t liked him much either.

 

“Yeah. Guess he wasn’t too careful with his shit either.”

  
  
  


In the kitchen, the four (plus Sento) had a quick meeting. Banjou and Ono were assigned to the kitchen for the morning, with Suga out front and Aya covering both.

 

“If you have spare time, do prep for this afternoon,” Suga finished with a wave to another door. The other three nodded, then moved to start working.

 

Sento watched with interest for a while. Not only had he never seen the kitchen area in a bakery before, it was also his first time to see Banjou there, and working with a decent level of confidence. While Aya was clearly the most experienced of the three in the back, Banjou understood what she told him quickly, without the extra explanation that she used for Ono. When it was just the two of them, Banjou took the lead, correcting Ono’s way of handling the dough a few times, and directing him on what needed to be done next. The fact that Ono was clearly more than a little terrified of Banjou was also kind of cute.

 

Sento found Aya fairly intimidating, personally, though perhaps that was colored by the fact that Banjou thought so, at least judging by the way he tensed up every time she looked at what he was doing.

 

“Your best ones yet,” she told him one time in a deadpan voice, before walking away.

 

Banjou relaxed, looking a bit pleased.

 

“She wasn’t quite complimenting you,” Sento told him, amused.

 

“Eh? But she said ‘best’!” Banjou whispered back, glancing between his work and the woman now stretching out dough with a practiced ease.

 

“It really depends how bad you were before,” Sento said with a shrug, stretching, then laughing to himself when Banjou considered that for a moment before slumping with a defeated noise. 

 

The rush continued on through the morning, keeping Banjou busy and giving Sento time to put some theories together to try later. He had half an eye on the world outside, mostly because it was more interesting than the cloth walls surrounding him. It got his full attention, however, when the air around him suddenly heated to uncomfortable levels. 

 

Not the air, he corrected himself after a moment, but  _ Banjou _ . Even with the shirt between them, he could feel the heat coming from the other man. He leaned forward, trying to peer outside and see what had happened.

 

For a moment, he was confused. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Banjou had grabbed a tray from the line and was bringing it to Aya. He didn’t seem particularly upset at all, and Sento frowned, then realized— 

 

“Banjou, that tray’s still hot!” he yelled, and Banjou jerked it back from Aya with a curse. Sento felt the temperature drop suddenly, and Banjou shoved the tray onto the counter with another loud exclamation, then spun around.

 

“Hot trays go to the end of the line!” he snapped at Ono, who fired back,

 

“That’s where I put it!”

 

“Like hell it was!”

 

“Banjou…” Sento murmured, despite knowing Banjou wasn’t listening. He wasn’t quite sure what the rules were here, but he figured Suga wasn’t the type to allow fighting in her kitchen.

 

“Banjou, go to the back,” Aya’s voice was louder, and Banjou twisted sharply to look at her.

 

“But—”

 

“ _Go to the back_.” Banjou sucked in a sharp breath, then moved, whole body tenser than a coiled spring. Sento had a feeling some of it was due to pain, seeing the way Banjou used the back of his hand to shove open the prep room door.

 

He stomped into the room, cursing Ono under his breath and pacing back and forth. Sento stood up in his pocket to cross his arms over the edge and get a breath of fresh air, but he didn’t try to talk to Banjou. The other man was trying to calm himself down in his own way, and Sento could wait.

 

Finally, Banjou slumped against the wall with a sigh, rubbing his forehead with his wrist.

 

“Go run some water on your hands,” Sento spoke up then, and Banjou moved to the sink without complaint, hissing softly when the water hit his skin. The burns weren’t so bad from what Sento could see, and would probably be mostly healed by tomorrow, knowing Banjou.

 

“...did I grab the wrong one?” Banjou asked quietly, maybe to himself. Sento answered anyway.

 

“You grabbed the one on the far right,” he told him. “Is that where the hot ones go?”

 

Banjou shook his head. “End of the line is to the left.” He huffed out a breath. “That guy...wait, then how did you know? I didn’t even notice until you said something…”

 

“You got hot when you grabbed it,” Sento shrugged. “Got pretty warm in here.”

 

“Shit, sorry.” He tilted his head to look at Sento, like he was double-checking for any injuries, then sighed again. “I never thought being good with heat would be a bad thing, but I almost gave Aya that tray without realizing…and then I got burnt anyway, the hell?”

 

“You realized the tray was supposed to be hot, and your body responded accordingly.” Banjou’s brow furrowed, and Sento tried again. “Like when you remember that Magma is hot after you’re done fighting and it _feels_ hot again. It’s your head trying to shift back and forth between your default ‘human’ side and the extra DNA.”

 

Banjou looked like he’d understood for a moment somewhere in the middle, but Sento had lost him again by the end. “Wait, but—shit!”

 

The door to the prep room banged open. “Banjou!” Suga stood there, and Sento ducked back down, feeling Banjou tense up again.

 

“Yeah?” His tone was not quite rude, but there was a defensive edge to it. He turned off the water and faced her, crossing his arms.

 

Suga raised an eyebrow at him, then sighed. “Let me see your hands, Chicken Head.”

 

Banjou muttered something about shrimp, and chickens, but moved over to the bench she pointed at and sat down. Sento could see now that she had a first-aid kit in her hands, and she put it down on the bench when she sat next to Banjou.

 

“You have the record now, longest a newbie has ever gone before getting burned.”

 

“I’m not a newbie anymore,” Banjou grumbled.

 

“Well, it’s a pretty strong record then, hm?” Suga laughed as Banjou finally let her look at his hands. “And you go and do something showy like take a fresh tray halfway across the room. Maybe now you will remember to wear mitts. Though…” she frowned down at Banjou’s hands, turning them over to look at the backs, then the palms again. “You have some luck still, not nearly as bad as I was expecting.”

 

“I don’t burn easy,” Banjou muttered. Sento supposed that was one way of putting it.

 

Suga got what looked to be a burn cream out of the kit, carefully uncapping it and putting a dollop on her finger.

 

“Ono will apologize, when you go back out. He’s new and he panicked because you’re a big scary Chicken Head, but he’s not a bad egg. And he’ll remember where the end of the line is now, so thanks for that.”

 

Sento made a mental note to photoshop a picture of Banjou with a chicken head as soon as he got big again. He watched as Suga started spreading the cream over the burned skin, felt Banjou twitch at first, then slowly relax again.

 

“So, how are things? Your roommate still crazy about math?” She let go of Banjou’s hand to tug a lock of her hair to stand up for a moment, and Sento scoffed.

 

“Always,” Banjou muttered. “But...eh, he’s been grumpy the past couple days.”

 

“Rough week?”

 

“Uh, something like that. Not really anything I can fix, y’know?”

 

“Sometimes all you can do is be a shoulder to lean on. You do that for him, right?”

 

“Of course!” Banjou sounded affronted. “He’s…ah…” Sento peered up at him, only to see Banjou staring wide-eyed back, then look quickly away. “Er...I mean…”

 

“Did you seriously just forget I was here?” Sento asked, a little annoyed. “Dumbass.”

 

Banjou’s eyes narrowed and he scowled. “He’s my _partner_.” 

 

Sento felt his face flush, and he looked away, but managed to reply, “Who the hell are you telling that to, idiot?”

 

“...ah!” Sento glanced up to see Banjou turning just as red as he looked back to Suga. “I didn’t mean...um…” 

 

Suga raised an eyebrow as she finished taping the bandages. “I certainly hope he likes you as much as you like him,” she remarked, “I don’t want to have to deal with any broken-hearted Chicken Heads.”

 

“...shit…” Banjou said weakly. Sento couldn’t see what he looked like, his own face buried in his hands.

 

The rest of Banjou’s shift went fairly smoothly—he declined Suga’s offer to leave early, insisting that the bandages wouldn’t get in his way. Ono approached Banjou to apologize as Suga had said he would, and while Sento was skeptical, the clear remorse in Ono’s voice was reassuring. 

 

Finally they were back outside after stale leftovers from the morning for lunch. They stopped at the grocery store to get what they’d intended to pick up yesterday, then Banjou continued walking home.

 

“We could stop by Nascita?” Banjou suggested, clearly not looking forward to being cooped up in the apartment again.

 

“There’s a decent chance of the other guy’s fans being there, remember? Best not to risk it.”

 

“Oh, right…” Banjou sighed, and kept going. 

 

Sento glanced out as the street passed, and froze to see Sawa standing on the corner, waiting to cross the other way. She wasn’t looking their way, but that could change at any moment.

 

“Banjou! Go back!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Just go!”

 

Banjou turned mid-stride, nearly crashing into the person behind him. He mumbled an apology and went back the way they had just come, pace slowing as they passed Nascita’s street again.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Turn around again.”

 

“Sento…” Banjou sounded annoyed now, but complied, turning back so that Sento could see that Sawa had continued on her way without noticing them.

 

“Okay, never mind.”

 

“The hell dude? I’m not a bicycle.”

 

“I just needed to check something, calm down.”

 

“Ugh, I swear—”

 

“Banjou!”

 

Banjou swung around at another voice, and Sento groaned. If it wasn’t one thing it was another, he thought irritably as Kazumi approached them, probably coming from Nascita. Banjou walked closer to Nascita, entering the alley where the restaurant’s entrance was.

 

“You’ve been talking to him too?” Sento realized, and Banjou shrugged. “What part of not interacting did you not understand? Should I have used smaller words?”

 

“Fuck off,” Banjou told him before Kazumi finally reached them. “Hey.”

 

“Misora said you probably wouldn’t be around today,” Kazumi said. It was strange to hear Misora’s name from him, and Sento peeped out, unable to help being curious. He didn’t look too different from the last time Sento had seen him. Of course, Sento hadn’t been there for the fight, and the...after...so he supposed that made a sort of sense.

 

“Yeah, uh, I got a...thing,” Banjou responded, and Kazumi raised an eyebrow.

 

“A thing? Don’t let me keep you if you’re busy…” 

 

“No, no, it’s. Uh. It’s fine.” Sento shifted uncomfortably at the way Kazumi and Banjou spoke to each other, much more polite than befitted two people who had fought in a war together. It was like a familiar equation with all the variables swapped out for different ones.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Ah. Um. Yeah.” Banjou clearly felt it too, hesitating before he spoke.

 

“Okay. Well, I wanted to ask you something then.” 

 

“...oh?” Sento frowned. Either Banjou was having a lot more trouble pretending than he’d thought, or there Sento was missing something, because Banjou was tenser than he’d been at the bakery this morning.

 

“I was wondering if you were up for checking out the street fair tonight? Was thinking of going anyway, having you there would definitely sweeten the deal,” Kazumi’s voice was casual, but there was something about the way he was leaning in a bit to Banjou’s space that brought Sento up short in sudden realization.

 

“Is he hitting on you?” he asked in disbelief.

 

“Er…” Banjou’s lack of response and his thumping heartbeat made it obvious that Sento wasn’t just imagining things.

 

“Seriously? Do I really have to just stand here and listen to him—hey!” Sento staggered when Banjou tugged sharply on his jacket.

 

“That...that sounds fun...like, with, your friends and shit, right? The-the red one, and—and the blue guy? Yellow? They’re, uh, your friends, right?” Banjou’s voice cracked as he floundered for a response, and Sento realized the air was starting to get warmer.

 

“The hell are you getting so worked up for, just tell him you’re not interested!” Sento hissed up, unsure if Banjou could even hear him.

 

“Banjou, look,” Kazumi spoke again, and Sento jumped as the fabric around him moved, and Banjou tensed even more. Kazumi had put his hand on Banjou’s shoulder, he realized, remembering him doing that a thousand times before in a different world. Did Kazumi do it simply because he wanted to, or because some part of him remembered Banjou, recognized his frequent sparring partner? Perhaps a bit of A, bit of B, Sento mused, then snorted at how true that was.

 

Absorbed in his thoughts, he almost missed what Kazumi said next.

 

“I like you, Banjou. I’ve only known you for a little while, but it feels longer. You’re kinda weird, but sometimes I feel like you really _get_ me, and that’s something I wouldn’t mind exploring a bit more.”

 

“Oh please,” Sento muttered.

 

“W-with your friends?” Banjou sounded more than a little desperate, and Sento winced as the temperature shot up a few more degrees.

 

“Banjou. Banjou, I’m trying to ask you out, I’ve _been_ trying to ask you out for like two weeks now.”

 

“ _Two weeks?!_ ” Sento was too annoyed to even appreciate the exasperated tone in Kazumi’s voice. “How oblivious can you get?”

 

“I noticed,” Banjou muttered, and Sento scowled.

 

“That’s even worse,” he hissed at him, and Banjou sighed.

 

Unable to hear Sento, Kazumi pulled his hand back. “Hey, if I got something wrong here, I’m sorry. Wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“Uhh…It’s, I’m not, un...uncomfortable?” Banjou shifted uneasily and Sento wanted to throw his hands up in the air. “I just… you know. Not-not a good time.”

 

“Oh, well, if it’s a matter of _timing_ ,” Sento grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the inner pocket. He swore when Banjou yanked on his jacket again. “Asshole.”

 

“Right,” Kazumi sounded confused, maybe a bit disappointed. “Well, let me know if you...wanna get a drink, or something. Sometime.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” The relief in Banjou’s voice was palpable, to the point where Sento kinda felt bad for Kazumi. Kinda.

 

There was a long silence, then the world slid crazily for a moment before Banjou’s hand cupped the outside of his jacket, holding it in place as he—sat down, Sento realized. They’d been in the alley, so he was probably sitting against the wall there.

 

Banjou’s hand moved away again, and Sento decided it was probably safe to come out, gripping at fabric to pull himself up and out of the jacket, and onto Banjou’s shoulder.

 

Banjou was indeed sitting on the ground, legs drawn up and fists rubbing at his forehead. He looked over as he felt Sento come out, and sighed.

 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do about...that. Didn’t think it would come up today.”

 

“Any reason you’ve been stalling on telling him no?” Sento asked, a little less annoyed seeing how miserable Banjou looked.

 

“I…” Banjou looked away. “If I told him I wasn’t interested, then…” He trailed off, letting his hands drop between his knees.

 

“He’d back off. Maybe too far,” Sento guessed. Banjou slumped and Sento sighed. “I get that you miss him, but—”

 

“Don’t be a dick,” Banjou interrupted, giving Sento a glare.

 

Sento hesitated, then sighed again. “I miss him too, okay? All of them. I’m not saying I don’t, just—”

 

“Don’t act like you’re above it!” Banjou snapped at him, hands clenching at his knees. “Just cause you get off on sacrificing yourself for other people doesn’t mean—”

 

“Me? Who was it that threw themselves into an energy vortex with Evolt again?”

 

“Didn’t take you long to follow, did it?”

 

“Like you could have taken care of it by yourself,” Sento huffed, then glared when Banjou just looked down at him and snorted.

 

“It’s hard to argue with a guy barely the size of my ear,” Banjou remarked.

 

“That’s sizeist,” Sento muttered, and Banjou rolled his eyes.

 

“Whatever.”

 

There was silence for a moment before Banjou spoke again. “Do you think...is he really that different? He never...he never said anything like that before…”

 

Sento sat down and shrugged. “It’s possible he half-remembers you, but doesn’t know why, and is just trying to rationalize that into something he understands.”

 

Banjou squinted at him, then sighed. “I don’t understand half the words you say. But if he… ‘half-remembers’, why doesn’t he just...remember, like Misora?”

 

“Well,” Sento stared at the ground, idly counting the pave stones, “Misora didn’t die.” His hands were clenching Banjou’s jacket, and he wondered if he was afraid of falling off.

 

Banjou didn’t respond, and Sento shook himself.

 

“Anyway, there’s no way to know how he felt before. He’s in a pretty different place now, and we’re not fighting a war.”

 

“It’s not like he had any problems telling Misora he liked her.” Banjou’s voice was subdued now, and Sento found himself wishing he hadn’t said anything.

 

“I feel like that’s a different kind of ‘like’,” he muttered. “Besides, in the other world I—” Realizing what he was about to say, he cut himself off, but the damage was done.

 

“You what?” Banjou moved to look at him. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing.” Sento cursed internally, feeling his face getting hot. It had only been half an insinuation at the time, but Kazumi had clearly taken it to heart.

 

“Did you say something to him?”

 

“I said lots of things to him, we literally slept in the same room, how could we have lived together for months without saying anything to each other, that makes no sense—” 

 

“What did you say?” Banjou cut him off.

 

“Nothing. Just...nothing.” It hadn’t been anything, really, just a stupid comment from Sento when he’d been in a bad mood, and...well, not _jealous_ per se, but—

 

He climbed back down to hide in Banjou’s pocket, ignoring the other man’s complaints.

 

( _“Sorry if the accommodations aren’t particularly luxurious,” Misora said, in a flat tone that meant she didn’t actually care._

 

_ “Not at all,” Kazumi responded, “Compared to the barbershop, this place is great. Comes with a place to sleep, a decent kitchen, a proper shower...everything a person could want.” He glanced to Banjou, working out with his weights on the other side of the room, and a slow smile spread across his face. _

 

_ Sento closed his book with a bit more force than was probably necessary. _

 

_ “Not everything,” he huffed, getting up from his chair and stalking over to grab another book, conveniently blocking Kazumi’s view. _

 

_ Kazumi’s smile turned into a smirk. “Understood,” he said, chuckling a bit when Sento just scowled. _ )


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet (more than double the first one whoops). I couldn't bear to split it though. Added another tag...I've been sitting comfy with my stock of chapters, but I cut a bunch of stuff out of chapter 5 because it was turning into a different fic so now I have to hurry and finish writing it lol...Endings are hard.

Sento spent most of the evening and night working on the scanner, which he had finally gotten to at least recognize there was a lifeform present, even if it still registered him as an “unfamiliar specimen”.

 

“Specimen,” Banjou sniggered, and Sento rolled his eyes. “You’re such a _specimen_ , Sento.”

 

“I can’t even tell if you know what that word means,” Sento grumbled.

 

Banjou finally insisted they go to bed around midnight, due to him having another morning shift, and Sento reluctantly agreed. He was pretty distracted today anyway, and later, lying in his shoebox, he couldn’t help but think over what had happened that day.

 

The bakery group reminded him a bit of Nascita, in that there was a certain amount of warmth to the atmosphere that Sento couldn’t say existed at his own workplace. Of course, he knew his coworker’s names, did his best to keep their image of him as a ‘polite, young man’, and tried very hard to keep from jumping up and down _too_ much when his experiments succeeded. Even while he was ‘sick’ this week, he’d insisted they send him any work that needed doing, and had been making sure to complete it as promptly as he could, despite the hardships involved in that. He didn’t want them to think ill of him for what was turning out to be a long vacation.

 

But in contrast, Aya and Suga at least seemed to know Banjou pretty well. Maybe there wasn’t much to know in the first place, but knowing and then understanding was perhaps a lot to ask of a normal person. Aya had dealt prudently with Banjou’s temper yesterday, and Banjou apparently respected her enough to listen, even when he was upset. Suga hadn’t batted an eye at Banjou’s less-than-stellar attitude (and Sento had to assume she’d seen worse from him in his first months there). The fact that she knew about Sento showed that Banjou liked her enough to talk about his private life (or maybe complain). Sento avoided mentioning Banjou at work, mostly to avoid complications if there were any even casual boxing fans, but he supposed he didn’t have to tell anyone Banjou’s actual name.

 

Then Kazumi, and Sawa. Gentoku had even been on the news tonight, talking earnestly about some very dull sounding legislation that had made Banjou tilt his head in confusion. 

 

Well. Sento had spent months thinking about that particular problem, and had yet to come to a good solution so maybe there wasn’t any point in worrying about it tonight. Still, it had been rough to see Banjou that miserable, and it hadn’t helped his own complicated feelings either. If the Nascita group had made Build, then what exactly was left for Sento to be if they were gone? He didn’t want to think about it, clinging tightly to the fact that Banjou and Misora still remembered. It would have to be enough.

 

~~~

 

The next day, Thursday, Sento’s 3rd day as Banjou’s pocket friend. It went mostly the same as the day before for the morning. No incidents at the bakery, and business had come at what seemed to be a fairly comfortable pace that let the workers chat a bit amongst themselves. Ono wanted to take his girlfriend someplace special for Valentine’s Day, and Aya threatened him with a knife if he dared come anywhere near the restaurant she was taking _her_ girlfriend too. Suga told them she was taking her dogs to an event at a pet park on the day, and the others agreed that it sounded like the most fun of the three.

 

Banjou didn’t say anything about his own plans (he didn’t have any, Sento knew, because, well. They didn’t.) and the others didn’t push, though Ono asked his opinion on going to an expensive place versus a cheaper, more relaxed one.

 

“Eh, depends on what she likes, doesn’t it? My old...my, my friend, she didn’t like restaurants in general, she usually preferred eating at home, or like on a picnic or something.” No one commented on Banjou’s stumble, and Ono continued on, lamenting the fact that his girlfriend 100% liked expensive restaurants. Aya did give Banjou a considering glance though, and Sento couldn’t help but wonder why Banjou had fumbled over what to call Kasumi. Because Sento was listening? Or because the Kasumi in this world had technically never been _his_ girlfriend?

 

They went right home after lunch today, and Sento spent another few hours working on the scanner, before giving up with a sigh, recognizing at least one more part he needed to get. He went to the trouble of printing out a picture for Banjou to show the staff this time, which definitely made things go smoother at the store, though the people working today hadn’t been much better.

 

“—what does it matter if you didn’t know what it was, he was just wasting our time explaining something simple like that. You didn’t even ask him to!”

 

“Uh-huh.” Banjou seemed distracted, and Sento wondered for a moment then decided Banjou was probably bored of hearing about it already.

 

“Besides, he clearly only had a vague idea of what it’s for anyway, what good is that gonna do you if you actually needed to know how to use it?”

 

“Un.” Mono-syllable this time, and Sento frowned, popping his head out of the pocket to look around. They were walking through a park that Sento recognized after a moment as the large one that connected to many of the residential areas in the city. A lot of commuters used it as a safer, more pleasant walk to get home than walking on the roads. As such, it was brightly lit, despite the late hour. Sento could even see a few other people, some looking more than a little wasted at this point.

 

“...something wrong?” he asked eventually, sure now that this wasn’t about the hardware store.

 

“I’m...not sure, there’s something…” Banjou trailed off, looking around himself.

 

“What kind of something, like—”

 

“Shh!” Banjou hissed suddenly, and Sento frowned, feeling the air getting warmer again.

 

He sunk down in the pocket and did as requested, found himself more aware of Banjou’s heart rate picking up, the slow tensing of his muscles. It was like before with Kazumi, except…

 

Banjou had slowed his pace considerably, and Sento strained his ears, trying to hear any sort of clue.

 

“Hey, aren’t you that boxer?”

 

“Huh?”

 

A conversation that happened often enough with Banjou looking almost exactly like his New World self, but Banjou still didn’t relax.

 

“You’re him, right? Oh man, could I like, get an autograph, or?”

 

“Uhh, sure…” It was easier to pretend, they’d discovered, especially once they’d found out this world’s Banjou was very free with his signatures. But still…

 

“Banjou, just get rid of him already.” His partner’s uneasiness was making him uneasy, and he didn’t like it.

 

Banjou made a quiet, annoyed sound, and Sento peeped out of the top of the pocket again, trying to see what was happening. He could see the paper, Banjou signing, and just a flash of the man’s face, along with an obnoxiously orange necktie.

 

“Banjou, that’s—woah!” Sento caught a glint of light reflecting off an aerosol can, heard something being sprayed, then Banjou jerked back, and Sento fell to the bottom of the pocket, clutching at the fabric.

 

“The hell was that?!” Banjou yelled, and his hand was back at his chest, trying to keep Sento from being jostled too badly. Sento appreciated the thought, but he hated being stuck in Banjou’s pocket when _something_ was happening. “You...what?”

 

“You must think you’re some top shit, huh? Boxing champion, engaged to your ‘high school sweetheart’. Well she’s not yours!” Necktie’s voice was suddenly obnoxious, full on entitled prick, and Sento gagged.

 

The sound of the aerosol can came again, and Banjou swore, “Quit fucking spraying me!”

 

“Banjou,” Sento risked raising his voice to yell, “Banjou just go!”

 

“I…” Banjou’s voice sounded strained, “Shit, what did you…?” There was a brief falling sensation, then Banjou moved suddenly back the opposite way. Sento got the impression that he was unsteady on his feet, and it was giving Sento vertigo. He tried to push his way out of the pocket, but Banjou’s grip had gotten tighter, probably due to reflex more than anything.

 

“Banjou, let me out so I can…!” Except he couldn’t do anything, really. Sento gripped the fabric of Banjou’s jacket in his hands and closed his eyes, trying to think of something, anything. Maybe if he could distract the guy, use his current state to freak him out somehow?

 

“Such a pretty girl, wasted on some dumb punk like you!” A softer sound, but Banjou stumbled back, like he’d been hit. Sento winced, but Banjou’s hand had moved at least. He pulled himself up, trying to see what was happening.

 

He caught a glimpse of Necktie moving, and braced himself as Banjou got hit again.

 

“Are you really just gonna sit here and get your ass beat?” Sento snapped up at Banjou, worried he was going to have to sit here and watch it happen.

 

“F-fuck you,” Banjou panted, “Both of you.”

 

“Now you’re saying shit about her—”

 

“Just cause...just cause you’ll never be...good enough for Kasumi—urg!” Banjou grunted when he got punched this time, going all the way down to his hands and knees. Whatever the guy had sprayed him with was clearly hitting him hard; Sento could hear Banjou’s heart pounding, feel his chest moving in sharp gasps for air. Then there was the fact that this guy was still standing, despite being beyond outclassed by Banjou. Banjou was even bleeding a bit, though Sento would wager the punches weren’t causing him too much trouble. That being said…

 

“Seriously. Seriously, get up, knock this guy out, get out of here—if I die because you can’t deal with this gross excuse for a human being—”

 

“S-sincere, er, sever—ugh, seriously! Shut up!”

 

“I can’t tell if it’s the drug or just you, but that was ridiculous…”

 

Sento’s reply was partly automatic, as he tried to keep an eye on their assailant. He’d apparently hurt his hand a bit with his last punch, hanging back to frown down at it for a long moment. Then the upset look on his face shifted back into rage, focused again on Banjou.

 

“Banjou! Get up!” Outclassed or no, something was going to break eventually. Even if it was just this guy’s hand, that would still be more trouble than it was worth.

 

But Banjou didn’t respond, eyes squeezed shut and shoulders hunching. Sento scrubbed at his hair, then hauled himself up and out of Banjou’s pocket.

 

“If you’re not gonna deal with him then I will,” he announced. The ground wasn’t far at this point, so it wasn’t hard to jump down, though he fumbled the landing a bit in his flip-flops.

 

“The hell are y—Sento!” Sento started marching determinedly in the direction of the jealous goon, who had paused to blink down at him in confusion.

 

Banjou made to grab him, but missed, his hand passing over Sento’s head with a slight breeze. That was actually pretty worrying, and Sento frowned up at him.

 

“The hell is in that shit, now I’m seeing things?” Necktie squinted at Sento again, then huffed. Sento had half a second to realize that that was a bad sign, before the guy’s foot was heading straight for him, ready to kick him away like a can in the street.

 

“Oh crap,” Sento turned to run away, then yelped as he was grabbed, the world spinning crazily for a moment.

 

Everything finally settled to show that Banjou had done the grabbing, and was currently clutching Sento close to his chest with one hand while the other had a hold of Necktie’s leg.

 

“The hell… am I supposed...to say to Misora...if you get... _squished_?” He shoved Necktie back by his leg, then shot up to his feet to punch the creep, hard enough to send him sprawling.

 

Out of it as Banjou was, it wasn’t enough to knock the guy out, and Sento could tell Banjou was wavering, unsure if he should try and hit him again.

 

“Just go!” he yelled up to his partner, and Banjou nodded shakily, turning to start stumbling away.

 

Straight lines were clearly beyond him, and Sento had to duck further into Banjou’s hand to avoid being crushed when Banjou staggered right into a tree. He managed to put some distance between them and Necktie at least, but getting home without further trouble seemed unlikely.

 

“Get to that bench over there, then-woah!” The world went crazy again for a moment, then Sento found himself being almost flung away, landing painfully on the soil. “What—oh man…”

 

He got back to his feet, wincing to see Banjou retching into the bushes. Remembering the sneeze incident, he stayed back, not wanting to get any unexpected showers.

 

When Banjou seemed to have calmed down again, he started inching closer. Banjou’s head came up, and he looked around himself, relaxing when he saw Sento standing nearby.

 

“Sorry,” he croaked. “Everything’s all…” he gestured vaguely around his head, and Sento grimaced.

 

“Feel any better?”

 

“...not really.” That wasn’t good, and neither was the fact that they were nowhere near home.

 

“Get your phone out; call Misora.”

 

“But—”

 

“I am liable to be eaten by the next hungry cat that wanders by, and you’re...a mess. Just call her.”

 

Banjou looked around suspiciously (checking for cats, Sento realized, half amused, half despairing) before he fumbled his phone out and dialed with trembling fingers.

 

“Misora? There was...a guy? In the park, I don’t know, but...anyway, Sento said...call you, so…” Banjou was listing to the side as he talked, and Sento crossed his arms, uncomfortably aware that if Banjou passed out here, there was little Sento could do about it. “By the...yeah,” Banjou managed to right himself, and Sento sighed. “Kazumin? Uhh…” Banjou looked down at Sento, who frowned.

 

“If she thinks she can tell him something convincing,” he said finally, watching as Banjou haltingly relayed his message. He’d have to hide if Kazumi came, but the help would be appreciated.

 

It took Banjou a few tries to get his phone back in his pocket after he hung up, and then he did slump to the ground, though it seemed to be on purpose at least.

 

“Everything just keeps fucking...spinning…” he muttered, his arm covering his eyes. Sento made his way over to him, clambering over pebbles and keeping a nervous eye out for ants.

 

Reaching Banjou’s side, he sat back against his shoulder, patting it lightly.

 

“Hang in there,” he told him. Banjou grunted.

 

Sento rubbed a hand over his face, then looked out at the park. The few faces he had seen before had vanished, perhaps worried about getting involved in the fight. The stillness gave him deja vu, remembering the same park in another world, draped in the oppressive silence of war. Not the same, of course, but he shivered.

 

He scanned the park again, then jumped to his feet.

 

“Banjou, he’s heading this way!”

 

“What…?” Necktie was barreling toward them, and Sento pulled at Banjou’s sleeve, trying to get him to move. Banjou responded sluggishly and Sento grimaced.

 

“Try puking on him!” he yelled as Banjou staggered to his feet.

 

Whatever Banjou might have said was lost in the clamor when Necktie crashed into him, knocking him back to the ground.

 

“Shitshitshit,” Sento swore as Necktie straddled Banjou, raising a fist to strike him. He had to distract the guy somehow, at least until Kazumi and Misora got here.

 

“Hey, you—!”

 

“Hey!” Another voice interrupted, and for a moment Sento thought it was Misora. Then he narrowly avoided getting stomped by a high heel shoe, its owner heading straight for Banjou and Necktie, and he realized his mistake.

 

“Sawa?” He asked, startled by her sudden appearance. The way she hauled Necktie off of Banjou was not nearly as startling. It was more nostalgic than anything, especially when she flipped the guy over her shoulder. “Ah, Sawa…” It was good to see some things hadn’t changed.

 

Gentoku running up after her to help her pin the man to the ground threw Sento for another loop, and he froze for a moment before trying to sneak back to Banjou.

 

Too late, as Sawa left Necktie to Gentoku and moved to Banjou’s side. Sento backtracked, hiding in the grass with a soft curse. He was screwed if he got left here, and Banjou…

 

“Are you all right? Oh, you don’t look well…He just attacked you? Your eye looks a bit swollen…” Banjou blinked dazedly at Sawa, who pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to dab at the blood on Banjou’s lip. “Ah, he’s really warm, maybe a fever. We should get him to a hospital,” she turned back to look at Gentoku as she said that, just in time to miss the sudden panic on Banjou’s face. Sento didn’t though, and he shared the feeling. There was no telling what a random doctor might think of Banjou’s abnormally high temperature, and they would have a lot of fast talking to do if someone tried to do a blood test.

 

“If we go up to the main road, there’s a police box. We can turn this guy in and they can tell us where the nearest hospital is.” Gentoku was as calm as ever, despite Necktie frantically wriggling to get away beneath him.

 

Sawa nodded and turned back to Banjou. “What’s your name? I’m Takigawa, by the way, and this is Himuro.” She gestured to Gentoku, who bowed briefly, bringing Necktie with him.

 

“I—Banjou, but really, I don’t need...don’t need a hospital, I’m f-fine.” Not his most convincing, with his face pale and half-wheezing. Unsurprisingly, Sawa looked dubious.

 

“Are you sure? You seem pretty…”

 

“I’m fine, I just—” Don’t try to stand up, Sento willed him, but of course Banjou did, and almost immediately started to topple over again. Sawa caught him, and Banjou slumped helplessly against her, trembling evident even from where Sento was.

 

“Mr...Banjou?” She seemed to hesitate over the name, and Sento ignored the small spark in his chest that caused. “I really don’t want to leave you out here alone like this...Maybe if you just come with us to the police box?”

 

“I’m not—not alone...shit! Where—?” Banjou jerked away from Sawa again, looking around frantically, for Sento himself, he presumed.

 

“Is there someone with you?” Gentoku was sitting on Necktie now, who seemed to have resigned himself to his fate.

 

“Ah, there’s, um, woah…” Banjou staggered again, and Sawa hissed under her breath as she caught him, then pulled his arm over her shoulder.

 

“Let’s start heading toward the police box, and you can try and call your friends from there?” She started moving, and Sento swore, giving up on his hiding spot to go after them. If he didn’t catch up, both of them were in a lot of trouble, but Sawa walked ridiculously fast for someone in heels supporting a man bigger than she was, and Gentoku’s stride was as long as ever. Sento wasn’t going to make it, and—

 

“Banjou!” Misora’s voice was the miracle Sento needed, bringing everyone to a complete halt. He weaved his way through various feet, hoping no one looked down. When he got to Banjou’s, he used the other man’s laces to haul himself up, slipping in between Banjou’s foot and the tongue of his shoe. Climbing all the way up to his jacket would take too long, and with Sawa holding Banjou up, it would be hard not to get caught. As long as he could ignore the smell, he would probably be okay here.

 

He turned his attention back up, to the four—no, five people there as Kazumi ran up after Misora.

 

There was a long, quiet moment as they stood in a misshapen circle and looked at each other, and Sento _ached_. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the braced looks from Misora and Banjou, or the lost ones from the other three, like they knew that there was something here, even though they couldn’t quite grasp it.

 

Sento watched Sawa move her hand, mostly out of sight from the others—counting to herself, he realized. 1,2,3,4,5...her gaze lingered on the space between Misora and Banjou and she frowned.

 

“Misora,” Banjou finally broke the silence with a strained voice, “I lost him.”

 

“Lost who?” Kazumi asked. “Are you okay? And who are you guys?” He eyed Necktie, currently being restrained one-handed by Gentoku.

 

“Are you Banjou’s friends?” Sawa asked, “He mentioned he was with someone…”

 

Misora ignored both of them, her gaze having dropped to the ground after Banjou spoke. Sento saw her looking, and peeked out enough to wave at her. She missed him at first, but eventually caught his movement, swooping down and picking him up. She pulled the hood of her jacket up, and settled him near her ear, hidden by the fabric.

 

“Smells nicer up here,” he told her, and she coughed to cover her snort. “Don’t let them take him to the hospital,” he added, and she inclined her head.

 

“I think he’ll be okay, Banjou. Let’s go ahead and get you back home.”

 

It took a bit of back-and-forth, but Misora (with some help from Sento) finally managed to get Sawa to agree to let she and Kazumi take Banjou home, while Sawa and Gentoku took Necktie to the police.

 

“They’ll probably want a statement from Banjou,” Gentoku spoke up, and Misora gave them the (fake) number that Sento told her.

 

“Thank you so much,” she told them, bowing while Sento held on tightly to her hood. As they left, she went over to where Banjou was struggling to stand upright, an exasperated Kazumi grabbing him when he began to topple over, only to get shoved away when Banjou regained his balance.

 

Misora gave Banjou an annoyed look and he stopped, finally letting Kazumi help him properly as she moved in on his other side. Then his face was peering at Misora’s shoulder, and Sento peeked out from behind her hair, hissing at Banjou to behave.

 

“Oh, good,” Banjou said, before buckling to be sick in the bushes again.

 

Sento did his best to fill Misora in on what had happened while she and Kazumi got Banjou sorted and started heading back for Banjou and Sento’s apartment. Misora was much better at pretending he wasn’t there than Banjou was, which was good because Kazumi knew something was up. Luckily, he was mostly on the wrong track.

 

“Misora, if you’re about to tell me my two favorite people have been dating behind my back, I’m going to be heartbroken.”

 

“What?! No!”

 

“...hey.” Banjou protested weakly.

 

“Not like that! Just, y’know. No. Also, Banjou’s got...er. Well. Anyway.”

 

“...does that mean you don’t?”

 

“No.”

 

“Eh? Wait, which no?”

 

“No.”

 

By the time they got to the apartment Kazumi was going on about his boys all getting partners and leaving him behind, while Sento was complaining about him trying to ask Banjou out earlier.

 

“You are all such blockheads,” Misora shook her head and sighed while Kazumi unlocked the door with the key he insisted he get out of Banjou’s back pocket.

 

“Here you are Banjou. Home sweet…” Kazumi trailed off, and Sento leaned forward, trying to figure out what was going wrong now.

 

He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, and he looked again to Kazumi, then followed his gaze to his own shoes, his trench coat hanging on a hook by the door.

 

Kazumi stared at the coat, then looked over to Misora.

 

“There’s someone…” he started, his voice hesitant. “Someone else...I think...” His brow furrowed, frustration clear on his face.

 

Misora was quiet for a long moment, perhaps waiting for Sento to say something, but his jaw was clenched shut, caught up in indecision. Finally she spoke.

 

“Banjou’s roommate,” was all she said.

 

Kazumi remained still for another few breaths, but finally moved to start to help Banjou up again. “Not just roommate,” he remarked. Not a question, but Misora shrugged anyway.

 

“You’d have to ask Banjou. When he’s not so messed up.”

 

They made it to the living room, and Sento winced at the mess, but he doubted Kazumi would notice. Kazumi indeed didn’t remark on the state of the room, but Sento could see his gaze linger on the Lion bottle, left a bit carelessly on the counter.

 

Why is this the choice, Sento wondered. Why is it either leave them intact with their painful memories, or take a piece of them away, so they know something is missing, and hurt for the loss?

 

“Kazumin,” Banjou interrupted the awkward silence. “I need to pee.”

 

“...what is even going on today, am I just having a crazy-ass dream…?”

 

While Kazumi helped Banjou to the toilet, Misora helped Sento to the counter, then went to the living room to make sure Banjou’s futon was ready. That done, she sat on a chair near Sento and let her head rest in her hands for a long moment.

 

“Is Banjou going to be okay?” she asked finally.

 

“Hopefully the drug will wear off without any further issues. Not fun for him in the meantime, but…”

 

“...I don’t like this,” was the next thing she said, and Sento sighed. “Usually with Grease at Nascita, it’s fine, he just talks about stupid stuff. But lying to him, to Sawa and Gentoku…? I don’t like it. Banjou hates it too, I can tell, you had to have noticed. And you-”

 

“I need to figure out how to get back to normal,” Sento interrupted.

 

Misora gave him a cross look, then huffed.

 

“I’d say quit being so self-centered, but I know you better than that.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Well, like you said, Banjou’s gonna be okay, right? Things worked out. Not that I’m telling you to stay small or anything. You’re stressing Banjou out for one; I’ve gotten more panicky texts this past couple days…”

 

Sento didn’t have a chance to respond as Kazumi came back with Banjou, who’d been cleaned up and was wearing his sleep clothes now, a fever strip on his forehead. Misora got up to help Kazumi get him into his futon, and Sento watched them from his hiding spot on the counter.

 

Kazumi sat next to Banjou for a moment, his brow furrowed.

 

“Are you sure he shouldn’t see a doctor at least? He’s running pretty hot, and he got sick again while we were in there.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Misora promised.

 

“I can stay, if you need help…”

 

“We’ll be okay. And...his roommate should be back soon. He can help.”

 

Kazumi looked at her, contemplative. Finally, he sighed. “...he a good guy?”

 

“He’s an annoying pest of a brother that I never asked for.” Sento stuck out his tongue. “And Banjou’s more important to him than anything.” Sento nearly choked on his tongue coughing. He really hoped Banjou was sleeping.

 

After seeing Kazumi out, Misora got Sento the stuff he needed, then sat next to Banjou, talking quietly with him as Sento worked. At one point, she helped Banjou back to the bathroom, and Sento grimaced, trying to make his hands move faster. Not that he could change anything now, he supposed.

 

When he’d done as much as he could do alone, he called Misora over, and she helped him get everything together, her hands not as strong as Banjou’s, but precise, and steady. Then she offered him her palm to climb onto, and took him to the scanning area, starting the machine up for him. He waited for the error beep, but when nothing but the machine’s ‘working’ noises happened, he slumped in exhausted relief. The machine finished the scan with a happy noise, and he nodded to Misora, who hit another button, telling the machine to start going through the information.

 

She brought him to the tabletop, and he sat on a bottle cap, watching as she checked on Banjou again, then pulled up a chair to sit with him as they waited for the data to process.

 

“Sorry about all this,” he told her, letting her decide what ‘all this’ was. Misora eyed him for a moment, then sighed.

 

“You know,” she said with an almost exasperated look on her face, “it’s okay to need people.”

 

Sento frowned at her, a little annoyed. “I know that. I know that more than anyone. I wouldn’t have been able to do half the shit I did without you guys.” The world would have been beyond doomed if he’d been alone, and most of it at his own hands.

 

“True. But it doesn’t stop after the world is saved.” Sento opened his mouth to respond, then stopped, letting her continue. “This world is at peace, there’s no fighting like we used to have to, no alien light corrupting the good in the world. And it’s _still_ okay to need people.”

 

Sento crossed his arms. “If you’re talking about telling the others, that’s—”

 

“They didn’t get a choice about losing their memories in the first place. Acting like it’s for the best for them to not remember the memories  _ you’ve _ decided are too painful...well it’s not the first time you’ve been so self-centered, so I’m not surprised but.”

 

“If they don’t get a choice—”

 

“I’m not saying tell them. But avoiding them like you have been is just as selfish.” She sighed and shook her head. “And it’s not just them. Banjou tells me all the time about his job, the people he works with. Aya’s even starting to become a regular at Nascita. But there’s never anything like that from you. I’m not trying to say I’m entitled to that, but I wonder if you’re not deliberately keeping everyone at a distance. ‘I fixed the world and now I’ll punish myself by staying out of it’, or something Sento like that.”

 

Sento stared at the tabletop, hands clenched tightly together.

 

“You let Banjou in because you have to, because even you can’t lie to yourself that bad. Even then, I bet it’s not as much as you want to. And you let me in when I make you, or because you forget, I don’t know…”

 

Misora hesitated, unsure, and Sento looked up at her.

 

“Because you’re important,” he told her, his voice quieter than he’d meant it to be.

 

She pressed trembling lips together in an attempt to smile. “Thank you. But Sawa is important to me, and Kazumi is important to Banjou, and Gentoku died for this whole stupid country. I know they’re all important to you too, and more than that, you stubborn, insecure, narcissistic idiot, you’re important to them.”

 

Sento took a breath, trying to loosen the tight band that had wrapped itself around his chest. He couldn’t quite find words, didn’t know what he wanted to say or even quite how he felt yet.

 

“This is when you hug me, and tell me everything is going to be fine,” Misora told him in a shaky voice, and he looked up at her, not surprised to find her smiling softly at him, a hint of tears in her eyes.

 

He stood up, walking across the desk to her hand. She opened it and let it curl around him.

 

“Sento,” she rubbed his back with her thumb. “Sento, everything’s going to be fine.”

 

“I thought I was supposed to say that,” he muttered, letting his head rest on her palm.

 

“Figured it was my turn,” she giggled a little as she said it, and Sento couldn’t help but chuckle too. They both jumped when the machine beeped, then gave each other amused looks.

 

A few minutes later, Sento stared at the data readouts, then groaned, letting his head rest between his knees as he scrubbed at his hair.

 

“Of course it was that,” he muttered in annoyance. The abnormalities in his data were all related to a certain chemical that they were currently studying at his work, and while Sento had guessed it might involve those experiments, he hadn’t realized how simple the changes had been. Not even the chemical itself, really, but the preparations for dealing with the chemical must have triggered a reaction. 

 

“Can you fix it?” Misora asked, and Sento nodded.

 

“I don’t know exactly why it happened yet, but I can undo it, yeah. Another hour or so.”

 

“Okay, well. Be careful. I don’t want to have to tell Banjou you got yourself squished on my watch.”

 

True to his estimate, it was ridiculously easy to fix the problem when he knew what it was, and about 50 minutes later, he was naked again, the clothes Misora had lent him in tatters on the floor. He frowned down at them, then grabbed his own clothes, ready and waiting on the chair.

 

“Did it work?” Misora asked, still turned away.

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Hang on.” He finished dressing, then tapped her shoulder, and she squealed in delight when she turned around to see him normal sized again.

 

“You really are a genius,” she told him with a laugh, before she hugged him properly this time.

 

“I guess,” he muttered, still sour about the experiment gone wrong. “Your clothes got wrecked.”

 

“It’s okay, I can make them again. You got a place for me to sleep?”

 

“There’s another futon in the closet,” he told her, distracted by how heavy his body felt. She peered at him and he blinked, then smirked. “I really am a genius, hmm?”

 

She snorted and waved him away, moving to the bathroom while he got the spare futon down for her. When she seemed to be settled, he got ready for bed himself. Using the toilet again was more exciting than he would have expected, and he was ridiculously grateful to be able to brush his teeth.

 

Then, he sat on his futon next to Banjou’s head and leaned back against the wall. A hand to Banjou’s cheek confirmed that the other man’s temperature was getting closer to normal levels (for him at least) which Sento hoped meant the drug was wearing off.

 

He jumped to see Banjou’s eyes slit open, looking up at him.

 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, honestly feeling pretty regretful.

 

But Banjou shook his head slightly. “...not sleeping…” His voice was slurred and quiet, but understandable.

 

“Still spinning?”

 

“Not so bad,” Banjou sighed, then focused on Sento again, eyes opening a bit wider. “Eh?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Big?” His hand came up to pat Sento’s chest, and Sento nodded.

 

“Yeah, I figured out where I had added too much—er—”

 

Banjou muffled his laugh into Sento’s thigh. “Your own fault…”

 

“For the sake of science,” Sento started, then stopped, exasperated when it just made Banjou laugh more.

 

“Yay for big Sento,” Banjou said finally. “We need to celebrate.” He smirked up at Sento, who raised an eyebrow.

 

“Celebrate, hm? Maybe once you can stand up without falling over.”

 

“Don’t need to stand up to celebrate,” Banjou grumbled, his hand falling to curl around Sento’s leg.

 

“I think it’s a decent benchmark of how likely you are to throw up on me.”

 

Banjou sulked at that, and Sento chuckled, letting his own hand rest at the base of Banjou’s neck, fingers running through the ends of his hair. Misora must have taken his braids out, leaving lots of wavy strands loose.

 

“Sap,” he heard Banjou murmur.

 

“You started it.”

 

“...don’t stop.”

 

There was silence for a long moment before Sento sighed. “Sorry.” It was more of a mutter than anything, but Banjou clearly heard him, tilting his head in response.

 

“For shrinking yourself?”

 

“Mmm...For not texting you.” Banjou blinked up at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes.

 

“Only 12 years later…” he complained. 

 

“Don’t exaggerate, it was this week. And…” He hesitated, and Banjou made a curious noise, eyelids starting to droop. “For tonight.” For being helpless when his partner needed him.

 

Banjou considered that for a moment before sighing. “I’m okay,” he murmured, pressing his face into the fabric of Sento’s jeans. Sento hummed softly, keeping his fingers moving until he felt Banjou relax into sleep.

 

He waited a while after that, making sure Banjou was sleeping peacefully, before setting his alarm and closing his eyes to sleep where he sat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, we made it xD
> 
> I'm a bit scared to go back through and read the whole fic at this point. It's probably an incoherent mess. Sorry about that.  
> Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Sento woke with his alarm a few hours after he’d fallen asleep. His body ached, but it was the proper size, and he grinned to himself when he could pick up his phone with ease to turn off the alarm.

 

“Are you seriously going to work today?” Misora groaned from her futon. Sento glanced to Banjou, but he hadn’t stirred. Carefully, he pulled away and got himself up, stretching to work out the kinks in his back as best as he could.

 

“I’ve been gone since Monday, I at least need to go in today.” He hesitated, giving Banjou another look. “He should be okay as long as he stays home today...though knowing him…”

 

“...I’ve got class today, but I can stop by this afternoon, make sure he’s behaving.” Misora yawned as she sat up, her hair a mess of bedhead. Sento looked at her and snorted, but nodded in agreement.

 

“If you don’t mind,” he mockingly put his hands together and bowed in her direction, then dodged the pillow she threw at him. It landed on Banjou’s face, and they both froze, then Sento carefully leaned over and tugged it off. Banjou wrinkled his nose, but didn’t wake and they both sighed. “I’ll text him and make sure he knows what’s going on.”

 

She nodded, eyes half-closed, and got to her feet. “You’re making breakfast, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, stumbling into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

 

“...right.” Sento made a face at the door, but couldn’t stop his grin as he made his way to the kitchen.

 

_ Hey musclebrain. Your lazy ass was still asleep when I left for work this morning, but we were kind enough to leave you some leftovers in the fridge. Just stay home and spare the world your face today. —Sento. (read 13:20) _

 

Sento glanced again at his phone as he took a late lunch. Banjou had read his message, but hadn’t responded, and when Sento had given in to his paranoia, he hadn’t answered the phone either.

 

“Asshole,” Sento muttered, then scrubbed a hand through his hair. He’d stopped by a coffee chain on the way to work, buying muffins for everyone in his office and personally delivering each one to his coworkers’ desks. His apologies had been met with concern, some polite, and some genuine, and he’d made an effort to be honest, and make some small talk with everyone. It wasn’t so hard, really, to try and connect with people. Just let them complain about their busy week for a few minutes and nod sympathetically. Easy.

 

A few projects that he’d been monopolizing had been continued in his absence, and while one had gone completely off the rails (still fixable, at least), a couple others had taken interesting turns that he could admit he wouldn’t have thought of himself. He’d gone to university and started work in a world under the influence of Pandora’s Box, and in this new world he found he was often a voice of pessimism, his colleagues’ views untainted by war and negativity. It seemed letting himself be part of this world could even impact his work, and he suddenly found himself with a dozen new theories to try.

 

Except here he was, unable to focus because a boy wouldn’t answer the phone. The worst kind of drama cliche, and he was living it. He sighed and shook himself, locking his phone and forcing his hands back to his computer.

 

Sento mostly was able to keep to his work after that, but he did end up checking his phone every hour or so, and when a message from Misora came in around 4 in the afternoon, he couldn’t stop himself from opening it immediately.

 

_ Sorry I’m so late, class ran long. He’s not at the apartment, and not answering his phone for me. Do you got this, or do I need to hunt him down? _

 

Sento whispered a few choice words under his breath, then sighed. It was nothing he hadn’t expected from Banjou, and it explained the radio silence. Banjou normally had an afternoon-to-close shift on Fridays, and Sento would lay good odds that he’d gone in. 

 

_ No, he probably went to work. I’ll pick him up after I finish today. _

 

Misora sent back a saluting sticker, then told him not to be too mean to Banjou. Sento rolled his eyes and went back to his work.

 

Usually so wrapped up in projects that he didn’t even notice the time, he felt it in his bones when the clock struck 6 this evening. He made himself wait another 15 minutes, until his supervisor encouraged him to go home and rest up over the weekend. With an apologetic bow to the rest of the office, he made his way out, fishing out the keys for his bike even as he stepped out the door. He mostly left it as a bike these days, unless they were going somewhere with no parking—it tended to attract unwanted attention, and Sento definitely didn’t want his coworkers looking too hard at its “otherworldly” technology.

 

He made it to the bakery by 7, when they closed for the night, and pulled the bike up to the curb, trying to stay at least a little out of sight. It seemed he needn’t have bothered though. When he peeked in through the window in the front door, he could see an exasperated-looking Aya bringing some floor rags and a bucket to Banjou, who was wiping up a rather large puddle of water near the register. From the apologetic way Banjou ducked his head at her, Sento presumed he’d been the one doing the spilling, and Aya shook her head at him before she went back to the kitchen. Banjou slumped as she left, and Sento carefully tried the door, moving slowly enough that the bells on the top didn’t ring as he slipped inside.

 

He moved closer to where Banjou was still kneeling on the floor, and watched as Banjou’s head turned slightly, just enough so that he could see Sento’s sneakers. His shoulders moved in a sigh.

 

“Why are you here?” Banjou muttered.

 

“Are you really asking me that?” Sento crouched down, a careful hand on Banjou’s back. He didn’t feel hot, at least.

 

“I’m fine. Just cleaning this up.” Banjou gestured to the spilled water, and Sento raised an eyebrow.

 

“Yes, well, while it’s good to clean up the messes you make, sounds like it wasn’t the first one today.” He considered the annoyance on Aya’s face, then added, “Maybe not even the second.”

 

“I’m just—hey!” Sento didn’t let Banjou finish, shifting his arm to slide it under Banjou’s, and pull him to his feet. Predictably, Banjou wavered, unsteady, and Sento pushed him to sit down at the nearest table, where he slumped with his cheek pressed against the wood. 

 

“Most people would consider getting drugged and beaten up in a park a good enough reason to call in,” Sento frowned down at the mess, then grabbed the rag, kneeling down to take care of it himself.

 

“That was _yesterday_ ,” Banjou insisted, “I was fine today.”

 

“For all values of fine that include ‘still pretty dizzy but I can mostly walk on my own so I guess I’m okay’, huh?”

 

“Um…” Banjou’s brow furrowed. “I’m not _that_ dizzy.”

 

“So you _are_ still dizzy then?” He looked back at Banjou, who huffed and looked away. “If you had just stayed home and rested, you might be doing better now.”

 

“I don’t wanna hear that from someone who forgets to eat half the time.”

 

“That and this are not related, and—oh.” Sento looked up to see Aya, looking down at him from the entrance to the kitchen. She stared for a moment then reached behind the register, pulling out a baseball bat. “Uh, hello—”

 

“Suga, there’s some guy up here. I’m about to hit him.”

 

Sento huffed. “Well that’s rude. And I just finished cleaning this up too.” He threw the rag back in the bucket and stood up as Suga came out to the front. “Hello. Kiryuu Sento, genius physicist, theoretical, practical, and everything in between. Pleasure.”

 

He bowed properly and looked to Suga, waiting as she crossed her arms and gave him a once-over. Then she leaned to the side to look at Banjou behind him.

 

“Yours?” she asked Banjou, and Sento scowled. He turned to direct it at Banjou when the other man just grunted in reply.

 

Banjou met his eyes and blinked at him for a moment, then abruptly jerked up, spluttering.

 

“Mine—no, just, he’s my...roommate, like, I mean, uh…”

 

“Roommate,” Aya repeated. She eyed the bat, then sighed and put it back. Sento watched her warily for another moment then turned his attention back to Suga.

 

“Yes, this idiot’s roommate. Sorry if that wasn’t clear.”

 

Suga was frowning at him, and it was oddly uncomfortable, like he was being judged. Which was rather insulting. He’d known Banjou first, after all.

 

“I came to pick him up,” he explained further, and Suga raised an eyebrow.

 

“Out of the blue? That’s funny, you’ve never come before.” 

 

Sento forced a small smile. “Well, I have to work pretty late, important projects, you know? By the time I leave, this place is usually closed.” And that sounded like an insult, didn’t it? Aya had definitely taken it as such, arms crossing defensively.

 

“We’ve tried to sell bread to the late-night drunkards before, but they’ve usually spent all their money elsewhere. Not much reason for a bakery to be open late, _you know_?” Suga’s comment was dryly humorous, echoing Sento’s words back at him with a bit of bite. 

 

“That’s—” He had to stop himself from snapping back with a retort. What was he even doing? Everything inside was starting to feel tight, in a fragile way, and why was Misora always right about these things? He’d been confident, after the exchanges at his office this morning, thought this was something he could fix easily now that he knew there was a problem. 

 

_ Stupid_, he thought to himself. He knew he was doing it, was trying to keep everyone else out again, and he couldn’t stop himself. Even worse, this wasn’t about him, these were Banjou’s people and he was still trying to push them away... 

 

Because what was important to Banjou was important to Sento by default, and okay this was not the best time to be having this realization, but there it was. He gripped his sleeves between his fingers, and tried to figure out how to navigate this without blowing anything up. 

 

A weight landed on his back, and he adjusted automatically, shifting to grab Banjou before he fell over, then realized what had happened and looked sharply over at his partner, who was currently using him to stay upright.

 

“Sorry Suga,” Banjou said, ducking his head at the woman. “I was pretty sick yesterday. I shouldn’t have come in today. I know I’ve been a pain to deal with…” His hand on Sento’s shoulder gripped him painfully, and Sento got the message, taking a slow breath and trying to make himself relax.

 

Suga gave Banjou a piercing look.

 

“Nothing contagious, right? You know my rules.”

 

“Ah, no, just, um…” Banjou faltered, and Sento cleared his throat.

 

“Food poisoning, we think. He never checks the labels. Spent most of last night next to the toilet.” It was halfway true anyway, enough so that Banjou relaxed and nodded sheepishly at Suga’s exasperated sigh. Aya definitely didn’t look surprised.

 

Some of the tension disappeared from his body, and he loosened his grip on Banjou, who gave him a look that said he understood maybe even more than Sento wanted him to. _It’s okay to need people_ , he could hear Misora’s voice in his head again, and thought he understood her better now than he had before.

 

“And that’s why this peacock is here now, hm?” It took a choked snort from Banjou for Sento to realize that Suga was talking about him, and he refocused on the conversation with a huff. 

 

“Yes, well,” Sento tried to come up with an excuse for a moment, then realized he didn’t have to. “I was worried.”

 

“I’d imagine he brings you lots of stress,” Aya said dryly, and Sento sighed dramatically, nodding as Banjou spluttered at both of them.

 

“Anyway, if there’s anything I can do in his place to help you tonight…?” Sento offered, but Suga waved him off.

 

“Nothing that an amateur could handle. Just get this boy out of my sight. I don’t want to see him again until Monday.”

 

Banjou stiffened against Sento’s side. “But tomorrow I’m supposed to—”

 

“Monday,” Suga said again, and Sento saluted.

 

“Understood. I’ll get him out of your way then.” Aya went to the back, returning a moment later with Banjou’s shirt and jacket. Banjou took his apron off and shrugged the jacket on, and Sento shoved the shirt into his bag, rolling his eyes. Banjou insisted he didn’t need a bag, but somehow his stuff always ended up in Sento’s. A moment later, a smaller bag landed on top of the shirt, and he looked up at Suga as she pulled her hand back.

 

“Those sandwiches won’t give you any problems if you eat them tonight,” she told him, and he thanked her, apologizing again for the trouble. They went outside with another bow, and Sento handed Banjou his helmet as they headed for the bike.

 

“You’re not gonna get sick riding, are you?” he asked belatedly, relieved when Banjou shook his head. That would be a lot more of a pain to clean up than the water had been.

 

He got on the bike, then watched as Banjou climbed up behind him, waiting until he was settled before starting the bike (a courtesy he did not always give his partner). Then he made his way out onto the road, sparing a glance at the hands that were hooked into his jacket, and feeling the weight of Banjou’s helmet resting on his shoulder. Little things, but some of his guilt from yesterday eased a bit, knowing that Banjou was leaning on him now. 

 

“Still awake?” he asked when they reached a stop light. There was quiet for a moment, then Banjou grunted, the weight of his helmet briefly disappearing before it returned to Sento’s shoulder a few seconds later. Sento shook his head, then froze to see a familiar outline on the street corner.

 

He met Sawa’s eyes, holding tightly to the handlebars. He was wearing his helmet, but without the sunshield, and she was clearly staring back, clutching her purse. Was that recognition in her eyes, or…?

 

“...nto?” Banjou mumbled from behind him, head lifting again. “What’s wrong?” Sento glanced at him, then back to Sawa, who was looking between them, puzzled. Then suddenly she smiled, and brought her phone up. She was taking a picture, Sento realized in confusion. The light turning green startled him and he looked up at it, then back to Sawa, who waved before turning and walking away. 

 

“Sawa…” he heard Banjou murmur thoughtfully. “She didn’t die...maybe she’ll remember like Misora.”

 

“I think she’ll be coming to Nascita soon,” Sento responded, finally starting to drive again.

 

“That’s good...Misora misses her…” Banjou’s head returned to Sento’s shoulder, and Sento nodded, letting out a breath. Maybe it really would be that easy.

 

The trip home was quiet, and Sento wasn’t surprised to see Banjou looking half-asleep when they arrived at their apartment. His alien DNA would have burned through the drug in his system, but it was his human side that provided most of the energy for that, and that still needed the rest.

 

Sento’s exhaustion was catching up with him too, and they made quite a pair, munching tiredly on their sandwiches. They both seemed liable to sleep in the bath, so they stuck with just a shower. Even then, Banjou managed to fall asleep against the wall, his toothbrush still in his mouth, and Sento was not above taking a picture of his snoring face to send to Misora as a thank you.

 

Finally they were settled in their futons. Banjou had never completely woken up after the bathroom, and he took all of 3 seconds to sleep again. Sento thought he might have more trouble—he usually slept at a much later time—but everything finally being back to normal was comforting, and he found himself eased straight into sleep.

  
  
  


~~~

  
  
  


Something nudged into Sento’s side, and he grumbled, shifting away without opening his eyes.

 

“Breakfast is ready, so whenever you’re done being a slug in bed…” Banjou’s voice came from somewhere high, and he squinted to see the other man towering above him.

 

_ What…?_ Had he reverted back to his small size? 

 

He sat up in a panic, only to crash right into Banjou, who had been standing with his feet on either side of Sento’s waist. Banjou fell with a yelp, landing right on top of Sento, who swore at the sudden impact.

 

“Ow, what the hell idiot, don’t stand on top of someone like that!” He flopped back to his pillow, hands covering his face. “I thought I was small again…”

 

“Ohh, oops. Sorry.” Banjou sounded contrite enough, but he didn’t get off Sento, instead kicking the blankets away and lying mostly on top of him. Sento let his hands drop, giving the other man an exasperated look.

 

“Feeling better?” he asked finally, and Banjou nodded.

 

“All I needed was a good night’s sleep.”

 

“You needed to not push yourself yesterday, but clearly that level of foresight is beyond you.” Sento’s words were grumpy, but he couldn’t quite work up the energy to be annoyed about it. Banjou clearly noticed too, smirking down at him before leaning in, a pleasant shiver going through Sento’s body when their lips met in a kiss. Their movements were brief at first, and tentative, but they adjusted quickly, relaxing into a familiar rhythm. Sento had missed this, the last time perhaps a week and a half ago at this point. He’d been busy with work, and then he’d been small, which had made even thinking about it awkward. 

 

He’d been made uncomfortably aware this week of how much they relied on the physical aspect of their relationship. This kind of touching, of course, but even the more casual ones had been beyond Sento’s reach. He wondered if it had been lonelier for Banjou—Sento had spent a lot of time in Banjou’s pocket, surrounded by his warmth and scent and heartbeat, but Banjou had only had Sento’s voice and the smallest bit of extra warmth in his pocket. For someone who was very physically affectionate—constantly throwing an arm over Sento’s shoulders or sitting close enough to crowd their sides together—Sento could imagine it had been rough for Banjou too.

 

He wrapped his arms around Banjou’s waist and pulled him closer in a loose hug, once again grateful for his normal size. Then he rolled them over, pulling away to cross his arms on Banjou’s chest, resting his head on top. They were both panting, and Sento stretched his fingers out to feel Banjou’s heartbeat in his chest, a bit fast with the exertion.

 

“No?” Banjou asked, hands on Sento’s back and fingers tracing his shoulder blades. He was clearly trying to hold back a pout, and Sento snorted.

 

“Breakfast,” he reminded him, and Banjou shrugged.

 

“It can wait—” he tried, but Sento shook his head. As tempting as the thought was, he had other plans.

 

“I want to go to Nascita.”

 

Banjou frowned, drawing his knee up and resting his thigh on Sento’s hip. He looked like he was thinking hard, and Sento waited him out, comfortable and not in a rush.

 

“You want to see Kazumi,” Banjou said finally, and Sento nodded. He knew from Banjou that Sawatari Farms made their weekly deliveries on Saturdays, and Kazumi usually did it himself, then spent the morning chatting with Misora and her father. “Are you gonna talk to him?”

 

“Probably should,” Sento said with a sigh, idly tapping his fingers on Banjou’s chest. “He helped lug your ass back home after all.”

 

Banjou made a face. “It’s not like he was doing it for your sake.”

 

“Maybe not, but he still did my job for me. Plus we should probably set a few things straight.” Fixing things with Banjou was probably the easiest and hardest part of this whole thing. Letting things stay as they were probably wouldn’t wreck anything—Banjou would forgive a lot for Sento’s sake—but he deserved more, especially when Sento was making an effort with near strangers.

 

Banjou gave him a sharp look, then averted his gaze again. “What, you want to tell him you’re my boyfriend or something?” His tone was nonchalant, but his ears had gone a bit pink.

 

“Of course not.” A bit mean of Sento to tease, but he couldn’t help himself sometimes, especially when Banjou was so easy to rile up. Predictably, Banjou’s gaze snapped back to him in annoyance, and maybe a little embarrassment.

 

“You are so—!” Banjou stopped when Sento leaned forward suddenly, looking Banjou in the eye. 

 

“Why would I want to downgrade after all this time?” he asked, flicking Banjou’s cheek. Banjou wrinkled his nose in irritation, but didn’t say anything for a moment, apparently processing that.

 

“...Partner?” he asked carefully, a small shiver going through him when Sento nodded. “Like...like _that_.”

 

“I’ve never meant it any other way,” Sento told him honestly. It had taken him a while to say it, but he had always meant it with everything he had.

 

Banjou looked like he needed a minute, so Sento kissed him one more time, slow and deliberate before he pushed himself up and made his way to the bathroom. When he came out Banjou was sitting at the table, a plate made up for Sento already waiting. His hair looked a bit damp, like maybe he’d splashed himself in the sink, and he was still quiet as they tucked in to the meal, but partway through his hand slid over to take Sento’s. Sento sighed internally, because he was currently using that hand to eat, but he picked up his chopsticks with his other one and didn’t pull away. He could let it slide for today.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I tweet at rinkufan, tumble at vegapunkd.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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